Of hangovers and wives
by kyootness
Summary: Gilbert was going to die. Because he had come home roaring drunk and made a mess of the house. Elizaveta was going to have his ass for breakfast. That much was sure. Human AU
1. Chapter 1

Gilbert woke up with the mother of all hangovers. Shit. Just what had he done last night? All he remembered was going out to drink with Francis and Antonio, his best friends. West had to be there too, since he was visiting for the week. Oh yeah, he was there, but he was the designated driver or something. Maybe. Glibert kinda remembered Francis dancing naked on a table, Antonio crying and whining about how much he loved his pet turtles, and rivers of beer. Jesus, how did he even get home? And at what time? Shit. Elizaveta, his wife of nearly a year, was going to have his ass for breakfast. She was going to disembowel him. Groaning, he cracked one eye open to see what the hell time it was.

He looked at the bedside table, and there were two aspirins and a glass of water. Marveling at the godsend, he sat up on the bed, trying to ignore his pounding headache. He took the aspirins and noticed a note under the glass. It read "Gil, your breakfast is on the stove. I fed Gilbird and I washed your white shirt. I'll be back shortly. Love you, Lizavet."

Gilbert snickered, but stopped when it worsened his headache.

And then his brain caught up with him, and he choked on the aspirins. If Lizavet had seen him in the sorry state he was yesterday, then the two aspirins were very, very likely to be full of arsenic, ground glass or rat poison. Or a mixture of the three.

He sighed. Okay, let's not try to go overboard. Probably Lizavet didn't really want to kill him. Still, the strangely loving note was a bit suspicious. Why would she be in such a mood if yesterday night she had most likely had to drag his drunken ass to bed? He doubted his awesomeness had something to do with that. Lizavet never really looked very affected by it. Perhaps she was starting now?

Gilbert shook his head. It was sadly very unlikely. He stretched a bit and groggily dragged himself out of bed.

After a quick trip to the bathroom, he walked downstairs, where his little brother was already having breakfast while reading the newspaper. And what a breakfast it was! Eggs, wurst, bacon, warm milk (it's a manly drink, so shut up), coffee and mouth-watering home-made chocolate muffins.

Gilbert was at a loss. This couldn't possibly be Lizavet's doing. She must be livid at him for what he did last night.

Ludwig looked up from his paper and said "Oh, hey Gilbert. Good morning. Glad to see you're alive."

Gilbert scoffed and sat down at the table, helping himself with everything that was in front of him. After all, Ludwig was having breakfast with them too, so Lizavet couldn't have poisoned it, right? Liavet always said how much of a positive influence West was on him, so she probably didn't want him dead. Probably. And besides, this was probably West's doing. Lizavet couldn't have been in the mood to cook.

"Alive is a big word. Let's say I survived."

Ludwig simply nodded at that and resumed reading his newspaper.

Gilbert pouted. "So, what the hell happened last night? Is Lizavet going to kill me? And thanks for the breakfast, anyway. It's awesome."

Ludwig shook his head. "Don't thank me, Elizaveta made it."

Gilbert scoffed. "No way she did. She must be angry as fuck."

Ludwig smiled a bit. "You really don't remember last night, do you?"

Gilbert took a sip of coffee before speaking again. "... don't go telling me that I gave her the most awesome night of her life, because it's not true. Lizavet hates it when I'm drunk."

Ludwig nodded. "Yes, she was mad alright when I dragged you through the door. It was nearly four and she was sleeping. And you didn't even recognize her, you just blurted out 'hey, there's a bitch in my house!' or something similar, I don't really remember. You were being obnoxious, if I do say so myself. You were singing, laughing, yelling, you were a mess. You even called her cooking revolting. You should have seen the look on her face."

Gilbert winced. All the more reason to be sure of his impending death by the hands of his wife. Not like it was true anyway. Lizavet could cook if she wanted to, but usually didn't want to. He hoped he could explain what he really meant to her before she frying-panned him into the middle of next year.

Gilbert swallowed. "... and then?"

Ludwig shrugged again. "Nothing, you just kinda passed out in the hallway, and me and Elizaveta dragged you to bed. Oh, you threw up all over the bedroom floor, by the way."

Gilbert paled. Shit, shit, shit. He better write a will before Lizavet came home.

"... just so you know, you're not inheriting my laptop."

Ludwig tried not to laugh.

"I'm not gonna lie, brother, she looked really livid. If she could have divorced you right then, she would have."

Gilbert swallowed. Dude. Duuuude. He was in for it.

But it didn't make sense! If what West was saying was true, then why was there a magnificent breakfast on the table and a couple of not poisoned aspirins on the bedside table, plus that really cute note under the glass?

"... then why didn't she kill me? Why did she make me breakfast and leave aspirins and a note for me? It doesn't make any sense."

Ludwig tried to keep a content smile at bay as he answered. "Oh, that. You see, when we managed to get you in bed, she tried to change you into your pajamas. I didn't catch the whole action, I was looking for something to clean your vomit with. But when I was back to your room, she was trying to get your pants off, and you said 'get off bitch, I have a wonderful wife back home.'"

_Woohoo. This was originally a joke on marriage, but I found it so, so, so really cute. So I tried my hand at changing it into a one-shot with a couple that I fangirl over so much, but had never written. Pruhun. Which is so effing cute. They were always meant to be. Or at least, I like to think so XD_

_Should I do another shot with Lizavet's POV?_


	2. Chapter II

"_FOREEEEEEVER YOUNG_

_I WANT TO BE FOOOOOOREVER YOOOOUNG_

_DO YOU REALLY WANT TO LIIIIIVE FOOOOOOREVER_

_FOREVER YOOOOOOOOUNG..."_

"For god's sake, shut up! Elizaveta is sleeping, you idiot!"

The albino draped on the poor, blond German's shoulder seemed not to have heard. He laughed raucously and, through his drunken stupor, he kept on singing.

"_SOME ARE LIKE WATER, _

_SOME ARE LIKE THE HEAT,_

_SOME ARE A MELODY,_

_SOME ARE THE BEEE..._"

"What. The. Hell."

Ludwig started in surprise. Shit. Elizaveta had come downstairs. Elizaveta was going to see Gilbert drunk off his ass. Elizaveta never liked when Gilbert got drunk. Elizaveta's eyes had darkened. Ludwig mentally cursed.

"... uhm, I can... I can explain..."

But before he managed to say anything, Gilbert cut him off, slurring his words and sounding completely, hopelessly drunk. Which he was.

"... oh, hey West, look, there's a beetch in mah house!"

Ludwig mentally face-palmed. Elizaveta seemed to become encircled in a dangerous aura. Clearly her husband was so drunk that he had not even recognized her. Elizaveta cracked her knuckles. It looked like she needed to show her beloved husband who exactly was the bitch of the situation.

"... Gilbert. You have ten seconds to explain yourself. Starting from seven seconds ago."

Ludwig closed his eyes and readjusted his big brother on his shoulder. He didn't want to see the pitiful remains of Gilbert when Elizaveta was done with him.

Gilbert looked intensely at Elizaveta, trying to focus his glazed eyes. Then he laughed really loudly.

Ludwig cringed. Oh well, at least he was going to inherit his brother's laptop...

"Man, West, look, the beetch in mah house wants me to epx... exlpa... say sumthing! What do ah tell her?"

Ludwig looked intently at the floor. "... maybe you should stop calling her a bitch, Gilbert. And maybe you should try with 'please forgive me' or something like that."

Gilbert laughed again and pushed off his brother, trying to stand on his own and miserably failing. He took a few uncertain steps, but then he draped himself over Elizaveta, whose nose twisted in disgust. He reeked of alcohol.

"Man, dude, why won't dah floor hold still!"

Ludwig decided to abandon all hope. He looked pleadingly at Elizaveta.

Who looked ready to smack a bitch or two.

And then Gilbert started munching on her pajamas.

Elizaveta's voice was very clipped when she spoke again.

"Peel this bastard off of me and kick him in bed."

Ludwig hastily obeyed. As he was trying to get Gilbert to stop gnawing on Elizaveta's pajamas, Gilbert spoke again.

"Uh, man, this tastes revolting! Like mah wife's cooking!"

Ludwig knew instantly that if Gilbert had a tiny, tiny chance of surviving the night, he had just fucking blown it with his last remark.

Elizaveta's eyes widened, then narrowed. Her mouth was pressed in really thin line. She crossed her arms over her chest and looked at Gilbert with so much hatred, irritation and pure murderous intent that Ludwig was surprised to not see his brother catch fire right there in the hallway.

"... your wife's cooking is revolting, then?" she asked the drunk man, trying to keep her voice even.

Ludwig tried to save his only brother. "Uhm, I'm sure he doesn't mean it, he's drunk, I'm sure he doesn't..."

Elizaveta snarled. "Yes, I can tell he's drunk, thank you very much for your insightful comment, Ludwig."

Gilbert laughed again. "Yeah beetch, yah should try what dah wife's cooks! It's just relto...rovel... it sucks, man! Oh dude, ah need to lie down for a while..."

Elizaveta tried not to show how much that last, reiterated comment on her cooking had stung. She snarled again and swiftly stepped back, leaving Gilbert with nothing to support him. He fell to the floor face first in a shapeless heap and didn't speak anymore. He seemed to have passed out.

Ludwig discreetly crossed himself in gratitude. At least he couldn't make any more damage now that he was sprawled all over the hallway's floor and his mouth was finally out of order.

Elizaveta turned the albino over with her foot, the look in her eyes hurt and disgusted. Honestly, she had no problem if Gilbert wanted to have a drink once in a while. She could live with that. What she couldn't live with was that it was four in the morning and her husband was so wasted that he would embarass her like that, calling her a bitch and degrading her cooking in front of other people. Elizaveta really felt insulted and hurt. But she tried to keep her voice even as she spoke again.

"Ludwig, please. Give him a piggy-back ride to our bedroom."

Ludwig instantly kneeled beside the sirry mess that was his brother and heaved him on his back. When he was done adjusting him, he followed Elizaveta to the bedroom.

"... uhm, I'm really sorry, I did try to stop him, but he... uhm... you know how he gets when..."

Elizaveta didn't even turn around. "It's not your fault."

Ludwig cringed. Her voice was as cold as winter in Siberia. He wisely decided to shut up.

Then she opened the door and gestured for Ludwig to put his brother in bed. Ludwig did, dropping Gilbert none too gently on the mattress.

Gilbert's eyes immediately shot open.

"Dude, imma throw up..."

Ludwig cursed. Elizaveta too. "Quick, go to the bathroom, get a buc..."

She couldn't even finish saying "bucket". Gilbert had simply leaned over the edge of the bed and threw up even his soul on the floor.

Ludwig looked mortified, as if it was him that had puked all over the poor bedroom.

Elizaveta looked really close to crying.

"I changed my mind. Please, get a rag from the bathroom, and some detergent. And disinfectant, too."

Ludwig dashed for the bathroom.

Gilbert wasn't done yet. He threw up some more before throwing himself back on the bed and saying "Dude, ah feel fuckin' relieved now. Imma sleep some. Night, beetch."

Elizaveta had never wanted to backhand Gilbert into the middle of next year so much.

"Yes sure, go to sleep, after all it's not you who has to clean a fucking lake of vomit off the bloody floor!"

Gilbert simply slurred something incomprehensible.

Elizaveta let out a frustrated sound.

"I swear, if I had some divorce papers handy, I would fucking fill them in right now!"

Gilbert didn't seem affected. Elizaveta snorted. Right. He hadn't even realized that she was his wife, so why would he care if she spoke of divorce like that.

Sighing, she decided to change the bastard into his pajamas. His t-shirt and jeans were stained with vomit, and no way in hell would she allow her bed to be soiled in that.

She scoffed and got on the bed, straddled that pathetic excuse for a husband and reached for the buckle of his belt.

She couldn't even start undoing it that Gilbert's hand snaked to her wrist, stopping her.

Elizaveta looked at him, a bit confused. What now? If he felt like getting frisky, she was really, really going to have to kill him.

"Get off beetch, ah have a wonderful wife back home."

* * *

><p><em>I wanted to go on a bit, but I feel that the last sentence is so self-explanatory that it doesn't need a long, mushy, corny, cheesy follow up. I mean, that line wraps it all up so nicely and makes you perfectly understand what Elizaveta's feelings are after hearing that. The cute is so overwhelming.<em>


End file.
